Vicarious Vivacity
by Narnian Sprite
Summary: A story of an American hybrid in London, the troubles of the times and a stranger in a Guy Fawkes mask. Vicarious Vivacity: Is it possible to live through another? OC alert, mixture of darkness and fluff.
1. The First Sign

Disclaimer: I don't own V for Vendetta. I only own Jay and I very much doubt that anyone cares.

A/N: Alright, so this is a fic. You read it then you review it. It takes place premovie. Sound good? Awesome! Let's get to it!

Vicarious Vivacity

Chapter One: The First Sign

In another world, Jay might have been ordinary. But in the world she lived in, she was not. Being different was not always a bad thing, she had been told, but her difference was bad, being different in her world was wrong, a crime and a sin. Variety was to be kept to a minimum, and when she could barely keep up with the slang, Jay knew she was walking around with a giant 'X' painted on her forehead. In her native country she might have been considered nondescript, but in her new home she stuck out like a sore thumb. What bothered her was that she couldn't even stick out as a particularly beautiful specimen of some kind, whether of genius or body. In the eyes of her world, her life was nothing but a list of condemning eccentricities.

She lived in England, but she'd been raised in America since she was seventeen.

Her hair was just too light to be considered brown and just too dark to be considered blond.

Her eyes couldn't make up their mind between grey and blue.

And, worst of all, she was a writing major with minors in music and education in a country where more books and songs were confiscated than were created.

She was a walking, unpleasant anomaly, and she knew it.

Her professor was just finishing his lecture on Victorian ethics when she came back to herself, and she realized with an unhappy pang that there was far more written on the board than was recorded in her notebook. Before she could even thinking of scratching it all down, though, the professor declared the class over and took an eraser to the rectangular white board. Jay's pencil froze halfway through writing down the names and histories of the Bronte sisters as the eraser obliterated everything but the 'E' in Emily Bronte's name. Her forehead hit the notebook with a muted thud as she indulged in a hoarse groan.

"My life sucks."

"Well, maybe it would suck less if you paid attention in class," Beth, her classmate and closest confidant suggested. "Your eyes went all hazy about halfway through the class. After that it was just over and done with. What are you thinking about when you get like that?"

"More like where do I go," Jay grunted, swinging her all-too-heavy backpack over her shoulder.

"Whatever, love. Are you coming with us tonight? We're planning on risking curfew and getting into a bar someplace. Midterms are of the devil, and Jonathan decided that we all need some divine inspiration to finish that piece for Gunstan by next Monday."

"Naw. Thanks, but I hate hangovers. I still remember last New Year a little too well."

"That was almost a year ago! You can't be serious, Jay. Even you aren't that crazy."

"Says who?"

"The entire bloody government, haven't you noticed? You are a Yankee after all," said Beth.

"Kinda hard to forget that."

By that time they were in the hall and as the other students disappeared around corners and through nearby doors, Beth stepped closer and said, "I took some more pictures. They're developed, and I'm adding them to the gallery tonight. Do you want to see them?"

"Sure," said Jay. "Would this be before or after you all get slobbering drunk?"

"Before. This isn't the sort of thing a drunk should look at."

"Of course."

"Tonight, then. My room."

"Tonight."

Beth turned and left, hurrying off to her next class and leaving Jay to return to her dorm.

It wasn't a terribly long walk between buildings, but Jay had come to loathe being in the public eye for any length of time over the past few years. Every time she showed her face she could feel the eyes weighing down on her. 'Foreigner,' they said. 'Sickening'. Every corner hid a man with a black bag ready to be tossed over her head. Every pub or other gathering place hid a Fingerman looking for someone to arrest.

But in her dorm she at least felt safe, even if she knew that she really wasn't.

She stepped in from the noisy hallway to find her roommate sitting on the edge of her bed, one hand supporting an open book, the other resting protectively over her enlarged stomach.

"Good evening, Mary," said Jay. "How are you two this evening?"

Looking up from her book, Mary beamed at her friend like only a pregnant woman could. "We're doing splendidly, thank you, Jay. How were classes?"

"Eh, they were as good as classes ever are," she said. "How were yours?"

"Everything but social ethics class was wonderful."

"Ah."

Jay turned away to replace her books on the sagging self and let her mind wander as Maryreturned to reading. Neither of them was unaware of the intended slight given by placing the two undesirables in the same room together, but neither had ever really cared. There was a wonderful solace in having someone to share one's suffering with, and for every time Mary was the subject of a dirty joke or Jay was the target of some minor violence, the other was there always to comfort them.

Both of their crimes were terrible, even if they were completely opposite in nature. Jay was the spawn of an unholy marriage between an Englishman and an American woman, and her mother had dared the wrath of the English government by dying and sending her child to live in _their_ country. Her father had shipped her off first to boarding school and then to a university, happily paying full tuition. They both knew that he cared for her on some level, but they also both understood that he could not risk openly taking her in for the sake of the public eye. Mary was the reverse. She had been born to a good, upstanding British family, but then she had become inexplicably and inexcusably pregnant, and she had also been shipped off to a university in an effort to hide her sins. No one bothered asking whether or not the child had been… created… with her consent.

They were incredibly different and very much the same all at once. This leant all the understanding needed to forge an unshakable alliance between the two of them. While it might not have been quite so friendly or open as Jay's relationship with Beth, it was even stronger in some ways, and they 'got' certain things about the other that few others would ever be able to grasp.

Social ethics class was the bane of Mary's existence. The teacher, like any good party member, would shoot discreet, sneering glances at her throughout the lesson, especially when words like purity, fidelity or responsibility were being used. Jay wanted to prank the ugly sucker, but Mary restrained her. She said it would be a bad example for the baby.

"You went to the doctor today, didn't you?" Jay asked, turning back to her roommate.

Mary nodded.

"_And?_"

Mary was blushing scarlet, and she let her book fall closed, forgotten by her side as she brought her other hand up to cradle her stomach. Her smile was restrained, but it was still enough to nearly split her face in two. "It's a boy."

Jay squealed. Before either one really registered what was happening, Jay had dropped to her knees in front of her friend and caught Mary's hands up in her own. "He will be beautiful," she said. "I know it. He'll look just like his mother. You're going to name him Augustus, right?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of… James," said Mary.

"But you said you were going to name him Augustus!"

"I said I would consider it."

"Aw, you're no fun," Jay said. "But I bet your kid will be."

A warning finger was raised into Jay's face, and Mary shook it emphatically as she spoke. "You will not be a bad influence for my son, Jay. Do you understand me?" She paused, a dreamy look crossing over her face. "My son…"

"Yes. Little James Augustus…"

"No Augustus."

"But it's a good name!"

"For a Roman maybe."

"Look, Mary, I know that you have a bad taste in names, but honestly, don't you think James is just too…"

"Am I interrupting a lover's spat here, or what?"

Both guilty parties spun like they'd been caught with swords drawn at a peace conference and shuffled their hands awkwardly under Beth's commanding stare.

"She wants me to name my baby Augustus," said Mary.

"She wants to name him JAMES! Do you know how many people in the world are named James?" said Jay.

"No," Beth said, "do you?"

"Well, not exactly, but there're a lot!"

"I'm sure," said Beth. "But that's not why I'm here. If I remember correctly you said something about seeing my pictures…?"

"Oh, yes! Sorry, got distracted."

"With a pregnant roommate? What a shocker. I just can't wait till she pops the blasted thing out so you'll quit worrying and return to the land of the wild and free college students."

"Hey!" Mary said. "I don't make her stick around all the time."

"But you don't argue that she does," said Beth.

"True." Mary frowned, then she turned to Jay. "Jay, get out of here. Go have some fun. Look at Beth's photos and then I order you to go out and enjoy yourself. Whether or not drinking is involved is up to you, but if I find you sitting at your computer when I come back this evening…"

"Come back?" Jay asked. "Where are you going?"

"I want to go to church," Mary said, shyly toeing the room's one area rug, "thank God for my son… for my safe carriage thus far."

"Well, you have fun getting sore knees," said Beth. "I'm going to abduct your roommate now. Good bye!"

"Good bye, Beth! Make sure she enjoys herself!"

"Oh, believe you me, I will!"

And then the door closed, and the two friends continued on down the hall, leaving their pregnant comrade in peace.

.V.V.V.V.

Beth's room was one of the few singles in the entire complex and had been the envy of many a student over the years. As a senior she rejoiced in her reclaimed solitude and she kept her visitors down to a precious few. Jay was one of those visitors, and she studied the sprawling collage on her friend's wall with rapt interest.

This was Beth's lifework, the one thing she hoped to leave to the world, a true record of the times in which they lived. The main focus of every picture was different, and it was almost impossible to find any connection between them unless one looked past the foreground and looked behind the scenes. Hidden away in a right hand corner would the image of a soldier standing with his gun at the ready. Flashing his badge to some unfortunate soul there was a fingerman, half hidden by the flowering bush which seemed to be the subject of the photo. There were hundreds of such images, each unique and each incredibly dangerous to possess. If a dumb man were to look at the images he would merely roll his eyes at the creative insanity of it all and move on. However, if a clever man were to look at the collage, he would see a wall of rebellion, of close and wrathful observation that threatened to spill over into action. If the authorities should find Beth's work and realize what it stood for, Jay had little doubt that her colleague would disappear under a black bag, never to be seen again.

In Jay's eyes it was a thing of tremendous power.

She studied the latest additions with reflective solemnity. They all told the same story: hidden violence covered over by a picture perfect world which no one could believe in.

"They're marvelous," she said.

"They're horrible," Beth corrected. She carefully took the photo from Jay's hands and stuck a generous loop of tape on the back of each corner. "It would be marvelous if all this could actually serve some purpose. As things stand the only likely outcome of these pictures is a bonfire and a jail cell."

"Oh, don't be so depressing," said Jay. "I thought we were supposed to be having fun this evening."

Anything Beth might have said was cut off by the sudden arrival of a very loud, off-key voice.

"Yankee doodle went to town, riding on a pony, stuck a feather in her hat and called it macaroni…" A young man swept into the room and grabbed a hold of Jay. As he continued to sing, he began dancing her around in circles, spinning them both dizzy in a matter of seconds. "Yankee doodle keep it up, Yankee Doodle dandy, mind the music and the step and with the boys be handy!"

"Jonathan, you outrageous flirt, leave Jay alone," said Beth.

"But she's so much more fun than you, love!"

"But I'm not your girlfriend," Jay giggled as Jonathan dropped her into a dip. "Shouldn't you be dancing with your lady?"

"Why would I do that?" said Jonathan. "I can dance with her any old day of the week."

"Well this day of the week we are all three going out, so drop her and let's go," Beth said.

Jonathan obliged in a very literal sense. In a second Jay was back on her feet, and Beth followed them both at a distance as Jay chased her boyfriend halfway to the nearest pub.

V.V.V.V.

Jay stumbled back to her room much later that night, high on sugar and laughter and very slightly tipsy from a few sips of her friends' drinks. She made a grand entrance, flinging the door open and shouting "Honey, I'm home!"… only to be met with a dark, empty room. There was no sign of Mary anywhere.

For almost an hour Jay forced herself to wait patiently, finishing up a bit of homework and even going so far as to clean up her side of the room. But then the seconds began to seem impossibly long, and she began to worry. How long could it possibly take someone to pray?

So she went out. It was well after curfew, but she was past caring. Mary was out there, and in her condition… Jay just needed to find her, that was all.

Fifteen minutes of prowling the campus uncovered nothing, and Jay was forced to extend her search. Another five minutes and there was still no sign of her quarry.

And then, quite suddenly, she found her.

At first she thought that the dark shape huddled against the wall was just a forgotten trash bag or a strangely-cast shadow. But then the shadow moved, and it groaned. Seconds later Jay was kneeling by Mary's side, grabbing for her pale, sweaty hands and trying to smooth the tangled hair out of her face. The scene was a horrible mockery of her reaction to Mary's news earlier that afternoon.

"Mary? Mary. What happened? Are you alright? Mary?"

"Fingermen," she whispered. "Drunk. They hit me, and now I think…" she cut herself off with a scream, and she clenched Jay's hands so hard she was afraid that something might break.

"Oh, Mary. The baby?"

"Yes. It's…" Another scream.

"Hold on, Mary, hold on! I'll get help. You can't have it here."

"No… no choice, love."

"But it's too early!"

"I know."

"Mary, no!"

It was a terrible birthing. Mary was already weak and bloody from her beating, and the child within had been disturbed enough to come much, much too soon. Jay kept her word, she called for help, screamed even, but no one could hear, or if they could, they didn't care enough to intervene. Mary had her baby in the gutter, and the poor thing didn't survive for more than a few minutes. Almost as long as its mother.

When the tiny boy finally slipped out, Jay wrapped him in her jacket, trying to clean off the blood, and then handed him over to his mother, who cradled him to her chest even as the light began to dim in both their eyes.

"James," she said. "James for Jay."

"What do you mean, Mary?" Jay asked. "James for Jay?"

"He's named after you," Mary said. "Little James. Augustus is a horrible name."

"Mary…"

Jay's hand trembled as she stroked the little tuft of hair peeking out from the jacket, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her own tears at bay. She didn't have to wait long before she could shed them. The mother and child died in the street together, and Jay kept vigil over them till morning, when the authorities found them and called the coroner.

It was all hushed up, of course. They skipped the part about the Fingermen in the official report and simply claimed that the poor girl had suffered a horrific miscarriage.

Jay could have killed them, but Beth and Jonathan were there to keep her in check, just as Mary had been there to prevent her from getting that awful ethics teacher. They all stood together at the funeral, suffering together in a deeper mourning than the parents on the other side of the coffin could ever feel for their wayward daughter and the grandchild they would never meet.

It was the first sign for the remaining three friends that things could not stay as they were, that something was bound to change.

A letter from Jay's father was the second sign.

A/N: The second chapter is already in progress, and I promise that our beloved V shall be introduced in either that one or the next. And you don't need an account to review! **Feed the starving authors! Leave a review!**


	2. The Good Life

Disclaimer: I do not own a motor boat, SUV, a life, or V for Vendetta. Sucks, doesn't it?

A/N: So, there's a wee bit of V in this chapter. More in the next, and much more in the one after that. What's that I hear? Spoilers? Aye. Get over it. See you at the end!

Chapter Two: The Good Life

It had happened so quickly, too quickly, and Jay found herself flailing about in an effort to find solid ground again.

Mary was dead. So was baby James.

Had she really only gotten the sonogram earlier that day? What sort of sick, twisted world took both mother and child in one fell swoop?

How could she go on living as she had up until that point? It wasn't right anymore.

She took to sitting on her bed with her back against the wall and just staring across the room at Mary's empty side of the dorm. Her parents had at least cared enough to remove her things, although Jay had secretly hidden a few of them away in her own mess before they came. There was no knowing what the adults would do with all her stuff, and there were some items that Jay just couldn't bear imagining in a dumpster somewhere.

Before Mary's mother and father came, Jay silently claimed the pictures from the sonogram, the only pictures that would ever be taken of James. After that, she looked through the rest of Mary's pictures, taking one or two out for old time's sake, hoping that they might remind her of the better days.

But they didn't. They just reminded her that her friend was dead.

.V.V.V.V.

Beth was having trouble getting Jay to attend more than one meal a day, or any meal a day for that matter. The cafeteria staff were beginning to get irked with her and her 'sick friend', who they had to prepare special boxed meals for.

"Let the lazy bones come down and get food for 'erself," one especially unhappy woman had said.

The way Beth saw it, she had no choice. If she let her friend continue slipping off into her own private world of shadows then soon Jay would be nothing but a shadow herself. Still, though, there was an understood respect for the other's privacy which Beth was loathe to violate. What gave her the right to pry?

She decided that nothing did, in the end. But Jay still needed help regardless.

When she finally worked up the nerve to barge into Jay's newly single room without an invitation or even a knock, she found her friend curled up on her bed with her back to the wall and a textbook lying open on her lap. Her eyes were developing dark circles in the soft flesh beneath them, and her hair was just greasy enough to show lack of care. Enough was enough.

"Come on, then, let's go," she said, sticking out a hand for Jay to take.

"Go where?" Jay said.

"Out. To dinner. To a restaurant with better food than the slop they serve in the commons, I don't know! Just _out_. You've been sitting in this box for far too long, you know."

"I have homework…"

"You always have homework," said Beth. "And you will until the day you graduate, too. Now let's get out of here and get you back to something resembling a normal life."

Jay snorted. "Since when have I ever had a normal life?"

"Since this afternoon at," Beth glanced at her watch, "three o'clock! Now put some hustle in that bustle, as you like to say, and let's get a move on."

"But…" Her eyes trailed over to where Mary's stripped, naked bed and empty closet stood waiting for a keeper that would never return. As Jay looked at the lifeless belongings of her friend, Beth scrutinized Jay's eyes.

What was she thinking? Beth wondered. Was she merely remembering that day? The days before that? Could she be wondering about the men who had done this? Did she blame herself? Sometimes it was dangerous to think too much.

"Jay," Beth sat down on the bed, "is this really how you think Mary would want you to mourn her? I don't think she was the type for a wake or anything, but I'm pretty sure that this isn't how she would've wanted to be remembered."

Jay sat quietly for a moment. Then she looked down at herself and then finally raised her eyes to Beth's again. "I look like crap."

"Yes you do. Shower first. I'll pick out your clothes."

V.V.V.V.

After Beth's insistent prodding, Jay began to recollect herself, and soon she was back to regularly attending meals in the 'commons' with the rest of the students. She smiled again, had her usual bounce back in her step and Beth only ever saw that horrible blank, dead look in her eyes when Jay first stepped into her room every evening. Shortly after Mary's death, Beth had volunteered to give up her happy home of singleness and join Jay in a vain effort to keep the crazy American sane. Jay, however, had refused, pointing out that it wouldn't be long until the end of the year anyway, and that the empty bed across from her served as a sort of memorial to the dead girl. Beth didn't care too much either way. She had her buddy back.

Several weeks after Mary's murder, a letter arrived for Jay, stuffed in a ridiculously expensive envelope and bearing her father's return address. She took it with her to lunch, hoping to read it between her friends' jabber and the ever-present need to eat. Jonathan spotted her the second she entered the eating area with her loaded tray and broke into his usual mocking rendition of "Yankee Doodle". Beth cuffed him upside the head and he only grinned roguishly at her… earning another smack.

"Hello, Jay," she said. "Have you been having a good day?"

"I was." She threw the envelope down on the table. Jonathan reached for it, but Beth snatched it to safety first. For a minute she peered inquisitively at the return address, then she raised her eyebrows and glanced back to Jay. As she handed the letter back she asked, "Your father?"

"Her father?" echoed Jonathan. "What does he want?"

"Well I don't know yet, genius, I haven't read the letter," said Jay. "If you'd be so kind as to shut-up for a few minutes I might be able to tell you."

"Right."

She stuck her finger under the flap and broke the seal. A seal, honestly, what sort of person still used seals?

The actual contents of the letter changed her attitude dramatically, however. Seeing the shift of emotions on her friend's face, Beth asked, "What's it say?"

"He wants me to come home for our next break," she said. "He wants to see me."

"What?" Beth snatched away the letter and read it for herself. She looked up in shock. "Is the man out of his mind?"

"No… I don't think so, anyway," said Jay. "But I really want to see him…"

"It's your life, love, not mine," Beth said, handing back the letter. "What could he possibly be up to, though?"

"What makes you think he's up to anything?" Jay perused the letter again. "Maybe he honestly just wants to see me. I am his only child…"

"His half-American child," Beth said.

"You know what I think?" said Jonathan, smacking his hands down on the table, "I think that if you want to see your dad, and he's asking to see you, then you should go home and visit the old bloke for a spell." Jay could've kissed him for that, but she refrained for the sake of her friend.

Without wasting another second, she leapt up from the table and grabbed her tray to return to the dishroom.

"Where are you going?" Jonahthan asked. "You just sat down!"

"And you've hardly even touched your food," said Beth.

"Sorry! No time!" Jay shouted over her shoulder. "Things to do! People to see!"

"You're loony!"

"Well, duh! I'm American, aren't I?"

.V.V.V.V.

Jay was hovering on the fine line between excitement and nervousness that ran through any potentially life-changing experience. Her father wanted to see her. Her _father_ wanted to see _her_. Her father _wanted_ to see her. Once or twice she'd made the mistake of repeating such a train of thought out loud around her friends, and after a few minutes of listening to the mantra Beth had become annoyed enough to clap her over the head.

Still, though, she'd grown almost impossibly close to her friends, especially Beth, since Mary's death. Their rooms had become twin sanctuaries from the world. Now it felt like she was on the other side of the world.

Technically she was still in London, though more on the outskirts than the urban university was located, however the towering gate and the ancient manor house behind it made her feel like she'd slipped into a fairy tale. Only once before had she come to her father's house, and that had been years ago, when she was first 'imported' from the States. The house looked about as inviting now as it had back then.

Uncertainly, Jay tapped her skateboard against her thigh. She'd taken a substantial risk by riding it halfway across town, but she hadn't brought more than would fit in her backpack, and she needed a chance to work out her nerves. As she stood there, she realized that she might as well have taken a cab for all the good her workout had done her. On top of that, she now had to face the concern that riding a skateboard always brought her. Would her father write her off the second she stepped into his grand parlor with such an American mode of transportation in hand? Would he decide that she still wasn't British enough?

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she reached out and pushed to com button.

"Name and business?" a voice buzzed from the speaker.

"Jay Parish," she said. "I'm…"

"Mr. Parish is expecting you," the voice interrupted. "Come up to the front door, please."

The gates gave an electric buzz and swung apart, leaving Jay standing there anxiously to eye the long drive. She stood petrified for about a minute. Then, with a heavy sigh, she dropped her skateboard and hopped back on.

If she was going to walk into the lion's mouth, she was going to do it with style.

An extremely up-tight-looking butler was standing in the doorway, waiting for her. He looked her over with an amusing combination of shock, disapproval and morbid fascination as she rolled up on her board. When she was within a foot of the steps that led up to the door, she popped up board and walked the rest of the way. By the time she reached him the poor, wispy-haired butler looked about ready to take a nose-dive onto the front lawn. American young people were clearly not the norm in these parts.

"Mr. Parish," the butler finally strained out, "is waiting for you in the study. May I take your… ah…"

Jay quirked an eyebrow. "My board?"

"Yes, miss, your… board."

"Sure." Jay surrendered the offending piece of plywood and wheels, and wound up handing over her jacket as well. While the butler could hardly ask her to take off her shoes too, Jay noted the mournful look he gave her filthy, muddy sneakers. So, slightly abashed about this one part of her appearance, she spent about five minutes trying to clean them off on the door mat.

"John?" a voice called from above. "What have you done with the poor girl? Where is my daughter?"

Both butler and student glanced at each other, and Jay could almost feel the man's eyes soften as he took in the fear she'd been so desperately trying to hide as it crept out into her expression.

"The master is waiting," he said in a kindlier voice. "Don't worry, my dear."

Jay stepped past him, and slowly ascended the grand staircase, letting her hand trail on the banister. Her father's house suddenly seemed impossibly large, and she distantly wondered if she would ever actually reach the top of this staircase or whether she would just keep going up forever. It was a ridiculous feeling, she knew, but she couldn't quite manage to suppress it.

She wanted so badly for this to be real, for her father to genuinely care about her. More than anything, she didn't want for this to be a charade, just another act for the world in general. Did he really care? Would she get a chance to know him this time? To have the father the government had stolen from her all those years ago?

The study was a classic example of a gentleman's sitting room, a place to write letters and converse on insightful books and operas. Jay felt out of place.

Then there was her father himself. Liam Parish. One of the richest men left in London. Most of his assets had been inherited from his ancestors, all dead now, and his entire estate oozed cultivation and history. What had made the man marry an American nobody was anybody's guess. His looks were more than tolerable, and his family fortune was enough to entice almost every single woman in England. It had been a great scandal when he married Vikki Trenstall, a writing teacher from Indiana. He'd been all but ordered to divorce her, by friends, the press, even the government… and he'd obeyed… shortly before Vikki found herself pregnant with his child. Jay never even had a chance to meet him until her mother died and she was brought to 'live' with him.

Now Jay had to face him again. She didn't know what she was supposed to feel, and as she hesitated in the doorway of the study, watching the man reading an old book in front of a desk that was probably worth more than her life, she wondered whether or not she really cared.

Liam looked up, glancing half over his shoulder to see Jay standing there in the doorway. His face lit up with a smile.

"Jay," he said. "I'm so happy to see you again. I can't even say… May I hug you?"

"…Yeah?"

"Good."

He rapidly closed the space between them and gathered her up in his burly arms, effectively squishing her to his chest.

"Good lord," he said, face half buried in her hair. "You're not the same girl I saw all those years ago stepping off a plane. I don't even know you, Jay."

Tentatively, uncertainly, Jay reached up and put her hand on his shoulder. It was almost enough to be considered a return hug, but not quite. "I never knew you at all," she said.

"I know," he pulled away. "I know, and that's why I've called you here." As Jay watched him in confused anticipation, her father moved to pace around the room, his hands restlessly floating from paperweight to priceless book to plaster bust. At last, he stopped. "I want a chance to get to know you, and give you a chance to know me."

"And what about the government?" said Jay. "Are you seriously telling me that you don't care if they take everything you own, all this, if they imprison you, kill you? I thought there were reasons that you kept us apart."

"There… were. But, Jay… No. First, I want to get to know you. I want to at least hear about all the things I've missed in your life. I want to get to know you. I want to teach you all the things I've learned during my pathetic excuse for a life." He laughed. "I want to give you extremely belated advice on men and try to prove that Shakespeare is better than cartoons." He moved back to Jay and cupped her wondering face in his hands. Up until that point Jay had been unaware of the fact that she was crying, but as her father, _her father_, moved his fingers to wipe away her tears, she was suddenly very glad that she was. Now she had a new memory.

"What do you say?" he asked, earnestly searching her face. "Should we give this whole fiasco a second shot? Would you like that, Jay?"

"Yeah." Jay choked. "I'd like that."

Her father smiled at her. "Wonderful, Jay, wonderful. I'll have John take you to your room, and tonight we can get started on reacquainting ourselves with each other."

"Ok."

.V.V.V.V.

That evening was wonderful. So was the next day, and the day after that. The break was over before Jay knew it, and she went back to college buoyed by the knowledge of her reclaimed family, and weighted by the fact that she had to leave again for another two months. But it didn't seem so terribly long once she was back in the swing of things.

Jonathan told the muffin joke more often the usual, and every day at breakfast he greeted her with his modified version of "Yankee Doodle". Beth was also happy for her friend, although she still had reservations, and she celebrated by bringing a cake back with her. A real, homemade cake. The three of them threw a party in Jay's room and got themselves sick on sugar and caffeine.

In short, Jay couldn't remember a happier time in her entire life, even in her sheltered childhood.

Summer break came with a blaze of heat and cheering graduates, Jonathan, Beth and Jay among them. They were now officially adults, and Jay seemed to have impressed a few of her old teachers merely by surviving college. It wasn't the wild celebrations or the shock and awe which was now hers which most pleased Jay, though. What pleased her most was that her father was in the audience when she received her diploma, and he was waiting there to drive her home, to _their_ home, once it was all over.

One evening found the father and daughter curled up on the couch in front of a horribly cliché and overly warm fire. Jay had insisted on it, though, and she was happy that she had. Her father pulled out a worn photo album and placed it on their knees. As he opened it to the first page, Jay's jaw dropped to her chest and her father chuckled quietly at her.

"It's me!" she said. "That was always Mom's favorite baby picture of me."

"She sent this to me a few months before she sent you," he said. "I've always treasured it, and I was wondering if maybe tonight you could explain a few of these in greater detail."

"Of course!... Aw. Look here. This was my tenth birthday party. Double digits. Mom made it sound like such a big deal…I wanted it Robin Hood themed. He was always my hero when I was growing up."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Jay looked back to the album, thumbing through them almost absently. When her father rose from the couch, though, she forgot about it entirely and rose to follow him. "Dad? What's wrong?"

"I have not been… entirely honest with you, Jay," he said slowly. "You see, there's something I feel I need to do, but I have no right without your… without your blessing."

"Dad, what are you talking about?"

"You told me about your friend Mary, about how she was murdered."

Jay tried to see his face, but he was looking out the window, and his emotions were blocked from view. "Yes. It was terrible. But what does that have to do with my blessing?"

Her father looked back at her. His face was deathly serious. "I have felt for a long while now that I ought to be using my position and power to do something to stop this madness, but I have done nothing, due in large part to my own cowardice, but also because I owe you my protection. You see, if I should be arrested it would only be a matter of time before they came after you, too."

"What, exactly, are you asking for?"

"I want permission to put both of our lives in jeopardy," he said. "I want to do something, Jay. I want to fight back."

"How?"

"A display. Your friend Beth's pictures would be the perfect medium. They're exactly what the people are looking for, what they need. I have discussed this with her, and she is willing to submit them, completely anonymously, of course. All that I need now… is your permission."

"My permission?" Jay walked to his side and took his hand. "They drove my mother out into the middle of a war, they murdered my friend and her baby, and they tried to keep you from me. You had my permission before you even asked." She grinned at him."Let's do this, Dad."

.V.V.V.V.

It took several months to arrange everything so that the funds could not be traced directly back to the Parishs. In that time, the world continued to spin, Beth finally coaxed Jay into renting a flat with her, and Jonathan proposed to his lady love.

Everyone felt the building tension as the display's opening date drew near, and all four of the conspirators rushed to live out their lives in case the funds were not so untraceable, in case one or more of them disappeared into a black bag. Jay split her evenings between her flat with Beth and the manor with her father. There was so much that she wanted to tell both of them. There was so much she still wanted to do.

In order to keep up appearances, her father was throwing a party the last month before the opening. He had, she discovered, ulterior motivations for doing so.

"I have a good deal of unapproved books sitting in my library," he said. "I should hate for them to disappear when – if- something happens to me. There are rumors floating around in the highest circles about some kind of thief breaking into the vaults of censored materials. I'm hoping to draw him here while the party is in full swing and the guards which are sure to come with all the political lot I'm inviting, are distracted. You know better than anyone my checkered past…and I'm afraid that I have not completely escaped without suspicion. I have reason to believe that I am being watched, and I'm hoping that this thief character will preserve some of the treasures that I have been safeguarding."

"How will you get word out to him?"

"I've been having a few of my more trustworthy servants spreading the news to the right people," Mr. Parish said. "Whether or not he'll get word is a matter of luck, really, but I feel like I have to try."

"Of course."

"If you could keep a look out for him, Jay, that would be immensely helpful."

"I'll do what I can."

"Excellent. But, speaking of the party, I had better go down and see what the cook is planning."

"Alright." Jay raised herself up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Dad."

.V.V.V.V.

The night of the party arrived, and with it came half of London. Jay wondered grimly if the thief would be able to even reach the library with so many guards swarming over the grounds. Surely he couldn't know where all of them were stationed? But she had promised her father that she would keep an eye out for him, and while that might translate to something different in English, it translated to 'make sure he makes it in and out alive' in American.

So she concocted a plan of her own.

Everything was awash with light and glitter. Cocktail dresses and table decorations blurred into one elaborate scene from where Jay stood at the edge of the gallery above. As she watched politicians, entertainers and 'normal' citizens milling around beneath her, she carefully chose her target. This could get her into trouble if she wasn't careful, and she had no intention of vanishing into a black bag, at least not before Beth's display opened. Then she spotted the ideal idiot: a guard with wandering eyes and a sneaky sweet tooth which kept leading him towards the buffet table.

She grinned. Time to work her magic.

With grace gained by constant practice, Jay descended the grand stair case as discreetly as possible. She'd chosen her clothing carefully that night in an effort to blend in with the glamour around her without drawing any particular attention to herself. She was also careful to keep silent as she crossed the entry hall towards the guard. On her way she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a few sips for encouragement. She would need all the support she could get.

Taking one last gulp, Jay set the glass on a convenient end table and then headed for the door… and the guard standing in front of it.

She tripped over her own feet and staggered into him, grabbing onto his jacket in an effort to keep herself upright.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," said Jay, calling on the full power of her native accent. "Just a little clumsy tonight I guess."

"Ge' off me," the guard sneered, shoving her away.

"Geez, I said I was sorry," Jay said. She pushed past him and escaped out into the yard. Other guards were standing there, checking walkie-talkies and ear pieces as updates came in from around the manor. She ducked away from these as well, heading for the farthest reaches of her father's estate.

Over the past few days she'd been scouting out the perimeter, looking for the thief's most likely entry point, and a few less likely but still plausible options. She picked a place where she was out of sight of the guards but would still be able to see the thief when he chose to appear. It was chilly out, and Jay huffily folded her arms up against her chest. It was just her luck to have forgotten to grab a jacket…

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long.

Just as she was beginning to wonder about the long term damages of frost bite, a dark shape dropped over the perimeter wall and began moving swiftly across the lawn. Jay had no illusions about moving fast enough to intercept her father's unofficially invited guest. She dodged back as quickly as she could towards the house and hoped that the thief would avoid detection by the guards until she could reach him.

While the thief was able to move with much greater speed out of doors, Jay had the advantage inside because she didn't have to worry about hiding from the masses of visitors and security personnel. Therefore, by the time the thief reached the shadowed hallways above, so had Jay. She saw him moving towards the study door just as she popped around the corner.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! Wait up a sec!"

The figure froze. For a split-second Jay was sure that she'd seen his hand dart towards his side, and she quickly assumed that this was not just a robbery, but an armed robbery as well.

"Don't kill me," she said quickly. "I'm here to help."

The man – at least she assumed it was a man – turned slowly, and suddenly Jay was very sure that she had concocted the stupidest plan ever concocted. A Guy Fawkes mask stared back at her with an eerie smile. She decided to finish her business as quickly as possible. There was no way she would just throw away her work with that guard.

Crouching down to the floor, she pressed her offering flat against the polished wood and shoved it so that it slid to rest by Guy Fawkes's boot. He glanced down at it and she hurried to explain. "I swiped it off one of the guards. They're swarming around here, you know. Thought it might come in handy."

The mask looked back at her, and Jay suddenly felt supremely nervous. "Um, well, that's it. I'll just… be going now…" She backed up, getting ready to dive back to safety behind the nearest wall. "Bye!" Then she lunged sideways and practically fell down the stairs.

She was not pursued.

A/N: Thanks for all the loverly reviews! And thanks as well to my beta-friend, IndoTreeEater. End of term papers are coming up, and the finals are looming on the near horizon with all the threat of OWLS.

Replies:

Vicki: Thank you very much! Holy crap, indeed: what a review! I sincerely hope that this chapter lives up to your expectations. My darling beta reader made me rewrite it twice. Thanks again!

Elsir: Ahoy, the Shrub! Thankies much! Glad you enjoy it. And thanks again!

GodisGod!iamnot: Thank you very much for your review! I know how it feels to be busy. For instance, there is that ten page paper which has a rough draft due Thursday which I've barely even started... Thanks again, and good luck in school!


	3. A Tribute to the Greater Good

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

A/N: Seriously, now. I'm going into finals week here. Three reviews? Whatever. Thanks to those who did reply, but, honestly, leave a review, guys. If it is any encouragement: there will be more V in this and upcoming chapters. So... **REVIEW!**

Chapter Three: A Tribute to the Greater Good

"Are you off your rocker?"

Jay clutched her knees to her chest and smiled bashfully across the tiny flat at Beth. "Probably. I felt like a complete idiot."

"Good reason for that, love," Beth said. "You _were_ a complete idiot. Did you tell your father about all this?"

"_No_."

"Why not?"

"It's _embarrassing, ok?!_"

Beth started laughing and almost dropped the tea pot. By the time she finally stopped Jay was glaring daggers at her.

"Ha ha."

"I'm sorry, Jay, but your _face_…"

"Aw, shut-up."

Jay flopped over on her side and jerked the covers up over her head, ignoring the pleading requests her friend was managing to squeak out between guffaws.

"I'm really… I don't mean…"

"It's still not funny."

"Well, think of it this way: he was the only witness and it's highly unlikely that you'll ever see him again anyway, so now you only have to worry about blackmail from one person, that being me, of course…"

"You stink. Leave me alone."

"Don't be like that, Jay, please. I'm sorry, I really am."

The covers were jerked down to neck-level. "Prove it," said Jay.

"Dinner and a movie?"

"What dinner and what movie?"

"I'll cook the ramen and we'll watch your filthy, stupid, thrice-accursed _Adventures of Robin Hood_ for the _fiftieth time_…"

Jay squealed and immediately bounced out of bed, hands flapping gleefully. "All better! Go make ramen, I'll get the movie."

.V.V.V.V.

The day of the grand opening finally arrived.

As the doors opened, without fanfare, red carpets or a fancy reception, Jay, Beth, Jonathan and Liam Parish stood huddled across the street, out of sight. They had chosen to name the collection of photos "A Tribute to the Greater Good". It was a delicious parody but still managed to convey the ultimate purpose of the show with brutal honesty. With any luck at least a few people would see it before an intelligent government agent came to have a look.

They were standing on the brink of a cliff. One push and they would all go tumbling down together. But at least they would have done something.

After that the atmosphere changed dramatically in all their homes. Whether she was in her flat or her father's manor, Jay could feel the omnipresent tension straining down her like the world had been placed quite literally on her shoulders. Her childish sense of rebellion rose in fierce opposition to such feelings, and she struck out at the world in the only way she knew how: with random abandon in a last-ditch effort to have fun and reclaim a much-needed sense of security. Much of this rebellion was demonstrated by trips around the city on her skateboard. She stuck out like blue jay in a dove cote, as usual, but she didn't seem to care so much as she once had.

One evening she got caught out without her key, and when she rolled up to the door to the building she realized unhappily that Beth was out for the evening with Jonathan.

"Hmmm. Crap."

She pushed the buzzer a few times just for the heck of it, but a drizzle was starting to come down and she decided that she would much rather be inside. The flat she and Beth had rented was situated on the third floor of the building, a daring height for the average climber, but Jay had developed a great skill for traversing primarily vertical objects during her years in college. It wasn't a very difficult climb, anyway. There were plenty of protruding window ledges and gutters and pipes to cling onto as she ascended to her window. The main trick was doing it unobserved. An elderly neighbor woman had caught her trying to break into her own place one night and nearly called the police on her. While it was a funny memory, it wasn't something she would like to have repeated, so before she tried anything she always took a careful look around the alley her window overlooked.

This time was no different. She dropped her backpack – which she had liked too much to abandon after college – and began removing her jacket as she peered around her in the darkness. Unlike the usual results of her scan, however, this time she espied a very unusual observer standing by the end of the alley she had just entered.

It was _him_. Guy Fawkes. He was just standing there, like he'd always been at the end of the alley, looking straight at her. Thoughts of every unpleasant thing to ever transpire in an alleyway raced through Jay's mind, and she spared a quick glance at the wall, wondering whether or not she could climb it fast enough to evade him.

The man took a step forward and Jay flinched back towards the wall. He stopped.

"I am sorry for startling you," he said in a remarkably civilized voice, "but I assure you that I mean you no harm."

Needless to say, Jay wasn't at all sure whether or not she believed him.

"Please," he said, "allow me to introduce myself." The man in the mask swept of his hat and bent in a gentlemanly bow as he continued. "I am a man of similar morals, it would seem, to your own, and merely wished to thank you for your wonderful gift at the Parish dinner some weeks past. That said, it is my greatest pleasure to meet you and you may call me V."

In spite of herself Jay had to smile. "V? And here I thought you were Guy Fawkes come back from the dead."

"No," V said, returning his hat to his head. "Though one could easily compare me to his modern day equivalent.

"But I am afraid, my dear lady, that you have me at a disadvantage. You now have something to address me by, but I can only guess at your own identity. Could you possibly enlighten me?"

"Jay."

"Pardon?"

"My name. It's Jay."

"Jay? How interesting…" He paused. "Your last name wouldn't happen to be Parish, would it?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Jay shrugged. "Yeah. Why? Does it matter?"

"Oh, no, not really. It only assuages my curiosity a bit is all," said V. "So you're my benefactor's daughter."

"He's hardly your benefactor, sir. The way we see it, you did _us_ the favor."

"Oh?" V cocked his head. "And how is that?"

"It's complicated."

"My very dear girl, the entire _world_ is complicated."

"Alright, this is really complicated, then."

V shook his head. "So, Jay… might I ask what you are doing in a dark alley at this time of the evening?"

"I locked myself out." When V did not immediately respond she elaborated. "This is the only way to get in unless my roommate's there."

"I gather then that this is not the first time you have found yourself in such a predicament?" said V.

"Uh, not exactly, no." Feeling like a bigger idiot than ever, Jay glanced away from the masked anomaly and glared wordlessly up at her window. "I should probably be going."

"Yes," V said. "You probably should. It would not do for a young lady such as yourself to be seen with a masked stranger in a secluded alley long after most other respectable citizens have retired to the comforts of their homes."

Jay stared at him for a minute. "Right." She hoisted herself up onto the rim of the fire escape, supremely conscious of the pair of eyes watching her all the while. V did not distract her, however, until she'd reached the relative safety of her own sill.

"Jay," he said. She turned to look at him, clearly feeling more confident now that there was a greater distance between the two of them. "I desired to find you so that I could offer you my services. I find myself in your debt."

"Oh, please," Jay said, "I gave you a walkie-talkie. Big deal. I'm sure you could've made it out on your own without any help from me."

"It is possible," said V, "but the facts of the matter remain unchanged."

"I don't need your help."

"Not now, perhaps. But you might."

High above him on the window ledge, Jay frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You and your father are clearly not the sort that will slip quietly into the night," V said, "and this government strives incredibly hard to maintain silence. And then, we are alike, are we not?"

"I wouldn't know," Jay said. "Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Jay."

Then Jay ducked in though her window. She was sure to lock it behind her.

.V.V.V.V.

Beth and Jonathan's wedding was upon them almost before they knew it. No one had been bagged, and the gallery had remained open without government intervention for nearly two months. They celebrated more than just the joining together of man and wife that evening. Jay danced with her father, and she tried in vain to show Jonathan and Beth the basics to swing dancing. It was a hopeless endeavor, but she was happy that she'd tried, anyway.

Once she was married, Beth moved into Jonathan's flat down the street and left Jay with a single room once again. She didn't like it. Not for the first time, she found herself seeking the solace of her father's company. It was still a new feeling for her, having family to turn to, and she exercised the right to use her room at the manor as often as possible. Liam didn't object. He seemed, in fact, to need her as much as she needed him, despite the newness of their relationship.

The one thing she had not confided in him, however, was her visit from the mysterious 'V'. She didn't know how he'd react. She wasn't even sure how she was reacting. A part of her agreed and acknowledged what he'd said. Another part wanted to pretend that they'd gotten away scot-free and that they'd all ride off into the sunset together like some cowboys from an old western. V's visit was an unpleasant reminder that the world outside her plastic bubble was still alive and well, and still as dark and violent as ever.

At night she found herself drawn downstairs to the television and she would turn to the news automatically. The things going on in England were terrible, but it wasn't England she cared about during those lonely hours at night. She scanned the stories spat out by the news anchors, searching for shreds of truth or honesty in their reports about her homeland… about America.

The stories were never good.

One night her father came downstairs, roused by the noise of the television, and found Jay curled up on the couch with a fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her eyes riveted to the images flashing by from her native country.

"Jay? What are you… ah."

"It's not going to get any better, is it?" she asked quietly. "The war is never going to stop."

Wordlessly, Liam came around the couch and took a careful seat next to his daughter. Her usual cheer was totally absent, and he could once again see in her the terrified child who had been sent to him like a stray, unwanted dog all those years ago. He had never seen her so vulnerable since their second reunion. He put his arm around her and pulled her head to rest on his shoulder.

"Are things ever going to get better? Am I ever going to go home?"

"I don't know," Liam said, slowly stroking her hair. "I wish I could predict the future for you, Jay, but I can't. I can tell you one thing for sure, though, that no matter what happens, I will be there for you, until my dying breath. Our family will never be divided again."

They stayed like that for the rest of the night, Jay's head resting on Liam's shoulder, macabre images of a world gone topsy-turvy flickering by in front of them. Together they were steadfast and solid. Together they were safe. Soon Jay was asleep, and when she woke her father was still beside her.

.V.V.V.V.

"Get _out!_"

_Slam!_

"Come on! You know it's true!" Jonathan shouted through the newly-closed door.

"I most certainly do NOT!"

"It's not your fault, though know."

"Exactly! Because it's NOT _TRUE!_"

"Oh, yes it is!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Shut-up!"

"No way! You're too much fun when you're mad. Besides, you really _are_ short, you know."

"_Jonathan!_"

The door swung open again, but Jay's tormentor was ready for her. Before she could so much as throw a punch, the boy was running off down the hall… with her hat in hand.

"_Come back here with my hat!_"

"No!"

"It's mine!"

"Not anymore it isn't! I think it looks rather good on me, actually…"

The two of them crashed into the stairwell, tripping down the stairs at an incredible rate until they slammed through the bottom door.

"Jonathan, I don't care _what_ Beth does to me: I am going to _kill_ you."

"You have to catch me first!"

"Get back here!"

Neighbors jumped back into their doorways as the combatants raced past and stared goggle-eyed at them after they'd gone. It shouldn't have been too surprising, seeing as how the crazy American was involved, but every now and again she _did_ manage to pull off something unusual. There were a few discreet bets circulating on how long it would take the girl to bring the building down.

Jonathan and Jay emerged into the crisp night air panting and flushed. Jonathan was tiring at last, and he finally stopped to lean against a wall, though he held the hat high over his head and out of Jay's reach.

"Hat," Jay panted. "Give me… hat." She rose herself up on her tip-toes, hopping from time to time in a vain effort to reach it, but Jonathan kept it well away from her.

"Shorty," he said.

"Shut-up." She gave him a half-hearted punch on the arm and he began laughing all over again.

"My grandma hits harder than you do, love, and she's dead."

"I said shut-up."

"Whatever you say, ducky."

"I am not a duck."

"Never said you were."

"Yes you did."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Is this what the world is coming to?" a new voice asked. "Fine pair of college graduates _you_ are."

With guilty eyes, the two combatants turned to see a vision of authoritative control standing haloed in the luminous pool of a porch light. Weakly, Jay pointed to Jonathan as Beth approached them. "He started it."

"Did not."

"Did…"

"Oh, for the love of…" Beth sighed and dug her fingers into her eyes, as if trying to purge them."Jonathan, you promised to make me dinner tonight, and Jay… I'll walk you back to your room to make sure you don't hurt yourself."

Suddenly cowed and submissive, Jay let Beth take her by the arm and lead her at a more reasonable pace back into the apartment building and up the stairs to her flat.

"I don't understand," Beth said, "how someone as intelligent as you – and I know you are – can be so immature and childish. Sometimes you're the voice of reason and sometimes you're a bloody kindergartener. I just don't understand."

"It's all in the timing."

"Hmmm?"

"There are very serious sides to life, and deep parts that deserve thought and consideration, but if you never smiled, never laughed, never cut loose, then life wouldn't be worth living at all, now would it?"

"I'm not arguing that," said Beth, "but why does your 'cutting loose' have to be so infantile and… public?"

Jay opened her door and slid into her room. "It doesn't. It's just more fun that way."

A/N: FEED THE STARVING AUTHORS! LEAVE A REVIEW!

Replies:

GodisGod!Iamnot...: Thank you for your review! Thanks for the advice, I took it for an upcoming chapter. Hope to see you around again, and the other ficcy has been updated! Thanks again!

Elsir: Thankies much! I shall do my best.

Vicki: Wow! Thank you! While jumping in with both feet has its advantages, I thought this story needed more flesh to it, so... yeah. Here was some V for you! And there is more in the next chappie! Thanks again!


	4. What Goes Up

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

A/N: **VERY IMPORTANT!** So, merry Christmas and all that jazz, now down to business. I will be perfectly honest: two reviews aren't enough motivation to keep me popping out regular updates. If the tally does not go up very quickly and very soon then this will most certainly be put on indefinite hiatus, and possibly even deleted. This goes for the future, too. If I have to yell at you all ever other chapter then I'm just making myself feel like the Wicked Witch of the West. There are one or two loyal reviewers that I would be happy to eventually send a finished story to, but the rest of you... tough luck. You had your shot. Last chance. Final warning. I honestly mean it this time.

Chapter Four: What Goes Up…

It took much longer than expected for an inspector of any intelligence to stumble across the Tribute to the Greater Good, but once it was discovered it took the agents all of five hours to close the place down and remove each and every photograph. The first tide of rage and accusations, however, left the real instigators untouched and unmolested. Apparently, Liam Parish's careful distribution of funds had worked. They were not, however, out of danger. Until the day they died they would have to keep casting glances over their shoulders, for fear of what the permanent, smoldering investigation might uncover.

This fear was, of course, overshadowed by the upcoming holiday season in the minds of the young rebels, and they went about their merry making with wild abandon. Jay stuck Christmas cards to every door in her building, Beth and Jonathan decked the halls of their new flat and Mr. Parish sent all parties involved a generous tin of cookies made by his personal cook. He'd tried baking some himself, but that hadn't turned out quite so well. Jay had laughed at his 'crispified' gingerbread men and her friends had come to the unanimous decision that he should stick to writing checks.

It was a quiet winter. In the manor house there was good food and warm, old-fashioned fires to chase away the chill from the drafty flats in the city. The flats themselves were filled with music, the noises of the television and a nearly constant bubble of conversation. There wasn't much in the way of luxuries, because all three youths refused Liam's charity, point-blank, but such things could always be made up for. All in all, life was good. They were surviving, they were happy and they were still free.

But Jay should have known that it couldn't possibly last. Not after their bold step. Not after their defiance. Justice to the dead and forgotten came at a price.

Jay sat in front of her computer, typing away for the first time that week. By that point she was keeping up two jobs – one practical, one for her 'art' - and there had been little time for personal pleasures. Her fingers, however, stroked over the keys like they had never been separated from the square tabs. There had been a choice she had been forced to make some time ago, about whether she wished to pursue her music or her writing. Seeing as how her playing earned her applause and her writing earned her polite, printed refusals, she had chosen the former. Perhaps if given time she could have developed her little hobby into an actual talent, but there had never really been time, and she was beginning to doubt that there ever would be.

Spring was just starting to bite back at winter's frosty fingers, and the view outside her window was half hidden by sheets of chilly rain. A few poor souls caught outside ran by with papers or umbrellas held protectively over their heads, but Jay doubted somehow that they did much good. Needless to say, she thought it was a good day to be inside, with her writing and her tea.

It was then that Beth burst in, her hair in an alarming state of disarray and her jacket wetly plastered to her shoulders. An eyebrow rose and Jay chuckled from the safety of her computer chair.

"You look like you jumped into the shower with all your clothes on."

"Jay." Beth choked, and the rest of her sentence was lost as Jonathan barged into the room behind her, swiftly closing and locking the door behind him. Jay rose from her chair, suddenly disturbed.

"What is it?"

"You have to get out of here," said Jonathan, advancing towards her closet.

"Your father's been arrested," said Beth.

"And if they've taken him then it is only a matter of time before they come for you," said Jonathan. He threw her beloved backpack on her bed. "Now pack up and _get out of here_. I'll be keeping a watch on the doors. Beth, help her."

Reclaiming some of her usual control, Beth rose from her slouch. Her husband of a few months left the room and she began opening drawers in Jay's dresser. "We need to hurry. There's no telling how much time we have."

"Right… right, of course," Jay said, sidling towards the flurry of clothes and belongings like a crab. "Beth?" Her friend paused in her efforts and looked her in the eye. "My father?"

"I don't know," said Beth. "I wish I could tell you, but…"

"Tell me what you do know."

"His butler called us, found our number in your father's planner. Mr. Liam is just gone. No sign of him. The butler was willing to swear that he'd been black bagged."

Jay sat – or rather dropped – down onto her bed.

So suddenly? Was this how the world ended?

Beth grasped her shoulders. "Jay, I know that this is difficult for you, but you need to help me pack your things now, alright? If they came for your father then they will most definitely come after you. Do you understand?"

"Yes…I understand. I don't want to, but I do."

"Good. Then get moving."

Several durable pieces of clothing went into the bag, along with some easily-packable foodstuffs and one or two mementos that Jay was unable to part with. These items were –luckily – very small and Beth didn't argue against them. They were two pictures. One with her mother, one with her father. One lost forever, one… well, only time could tell, but also, most likely, gone.

Jay stripped off her casual sweats and replaced them with sturdier things like jeans which would hold up longer against the wear and tear of street life. Beth forced her to don a t-shirt, a jacket and a coat, promising that she would be grateful later. Finally, Jay was ready to depart. It had felt like an eternity of preparation, but in reality it could only have taken a few minutes.

Faced with her imminent departure, Jay turned to face her friend, completely at a loss for anything noteworthy to say in farewell. "You can have my ramen, I guess. I don't think there are such things as public, street corner microwaves."

"Maybe the fingermen will be hungry when they come in," Beth said softly.

Jay's eyes drifted around her tiny flat, remembering when Beth's presence and belongs had made it even tinier, and suddenly felt like it was the best place in the world. Then she saw it, propped up in the corner. Her skateboard. It would be impractical and also dangerous to take it with her, so she would have to leave it behind. But still, the idea of Creedy's fingermen smashing it made her heart plummet into her gut. Tenderly, she reached out and stroked the trusty old thing. Her eyes darted to Beth, and her request was made before she even opened her mouth.

"Could you…?"

"Sure thing." Beth stepped forward and grabbed the board, stuffing it safely under her coat. "I'll keep it safe for you… Till you come back."

"Till I come back."

Jonathan came back then and forced them to shorten their goodbyes. "The coast looks clear, but you should be a move on now, before they get the idea to set up surveillance or send in a team for you."

Jay all but launched herself at her friends, squeezing them to the point that it was painful, but no one protested. She stepped back again, and Jonathan held her pack out for her. Beth stood by with the skateboard. Jay walked to the door and hesitated halfway out into the hall.

"Well, I guess… Goodbye then."

The moment Jay was gone, Beth crashed to her knees and began rocking back and forth on the floor, wailing into her hands. Jonathan dropped down beside her and embraced her tightly, half to comfort and half to muffle her howls.

.V.V.V.V.

Jay slumped against the slick, wet wall. She panted for breath as she rested, trying to figure out where her horrible sense of direction had landed her. After she'd left the apartment building she had run, quite literally, for a very good distance. No fingermen had appeared either behind or in front of her.

That had been two days ago.

It was raining now on, this, her third night as an outlaw, and she was freezing cold. Cardboard boxes did little to keep out the water and people tended to frown on nameless street rats loitering in their doorways. So she was wet, and she was cold and she was also becoming rather hungry since her scanty supplies had run out early that morning. Ah, well, a few days without food wouldn't hurt her. Neither would rain, in and of itself. But it didn't mean that she had to be happy about either condition. She really would have to do something about food, though. Dodging the law was all well and good, but she understood starving to be a nasty way to go.

She pushed off from the wall and wandered down yet another alleyway. Such dark corners had become her friends at night. By snuggling into the deepest shadows she could become practically invisible to the casual observer – or any passing fingermen.

It was not destined to be a lucky night for her, however, and she found her alley of choice to presently occupied. By fingermen.

Fate had it out for her, she just knew it.

"Hey! You! It's past curfew, miss! What would you be doing out so late in a place like this?"

"Minding my own frickin' business," Jay muttered under her breath.

"Couldn't hear you, speak up!"

There were five of them, and one of her. Bad odds no matter what your tastes in betting might be. Very bad odds. She tried the trick her mother had always taught to her…

"Hey, now, we aren't finished with you yet."

So much for walking away. Time for a different tactic.

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked back at the group of thugs – who were now within easy spitting distance of her. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide and she pointed to a point over their shoulders and screamed at the top of her lungs, "Oh my gosh, _look a distraction!_"

…and took off running before they could figure out what she'd just said.

She spared a quick look back, just to see how many had gotten it and were now on her tail. Her timing, however, was somewhat off, so she wasn't prepared for the fist that shot out and made contact with her temple. As she rolled slowly from her side to her back, she saw yet another fingerman step out from the shadows around the corner. Dark places looked a lot less friendly all of a sudden.

"Isn't that the little American brat?" one of the approaching men asked.

Oh, snap.

"Sure looks like it." A toe nudged her in the ribs. "Hey, Yankee, say something."

For the first time in her life, Jay shut up.

"She sounded like she had a bit of an accent earlier…"

"Yes she did." The man speaking reached into his coat and pulled something out from one of the inner pockets. Jay felt physically sick, both from the knock on the head and the sight of the sinister black bag now dangling from the fingerman's hand. "You've got some friends looking for you."

The coarse cloth moved closer to her face, and Jay sprang up from the ground, slightly dizzy but still sensible enough to fight back. Her elbow flew into one henchman's face, breaking _something_ with a nasty little crunch. Another got a stomp to the instep and a third suffered the worst pain a man could suffer. Then the others moved in to help their comrades and got a hold of their flailing victim. The one with the freshly broken nose was the one who had threatened her with the bag, and he now advanced in a seething rage, his anger growing as Jay's slipped away to be replaced with icy horror.

His meaty fist slammed into her face and Jay's head snapped back. For a second she saw stars, and then she saw only black. And it wasn't the peaceful darkness of unconsciousness. Jay screamed. The invisible fist hit her again and Jay reeled in empty space, no longer able to tell up from down.

Feet and other fists rained down on her and several truncheons were thrown into the mix, smacking into her soft flesh. She'd never really been hit before, at least, not like this, and she screamed all the louder as another piece of her innocent worldview was shattered. She screamed until the coppery fluid in her mouth made it too difficult and fell into a desperate whimper.

And then it stopped. Gradually. One hard boot was taken away, then a truncheon, then several fists. And then if stopped altogether. For an eternity it seemed, she laid there in the street, her blood pounding so loudly in her ears that she could hardly hear anything else at all. Then the hands were on her again and she flinched away, trying to scream, but they held on… gently.

The cords holding the hood closed were quickly cut away, and the darkness was lifted. She was lying on her back, looking up into a familiar face – which wasn't a face – that smiled kindly down on her as she was carefully lifted from the puddles on the street. A strangled sound escaped her which might have been either a question or exclamation, and V, responded… but she couldn't quite make out...

Jay tried very valiantly to stay awake, but her head hurt, her mouth hurt. Heck, _all_ of her hurt. So she let sleep's numbing balm slip into her veins and quiet the aches inside.

She felt arms around her as she faded into sleep, and the rocking sway of the masked man's step. Where was he taking her…? Was she ever going to go home…? And then she slept.

.V.V.V.V.

Jay woke by slow degrees. The first thing she became aware of was the pain. Now she knew for sure that fate had it out for her. It wasn't as bad as it had been before… before? Before. What had happened before? Oh, that was right, fingermen… and a black bag. Her eyes shot open, and she jerked up into a sitting position. She immediately regretted it. Her head swam and she found herself falling backwards, but she never reached the jarring end. Once again, her eyes opened and she suffered from a bout of déjà vu as she saw the smiling face hovering over hers. The figure's arm was supporting her back and he gradually lowered her back into her former position before taking a few careful steps back.

"Good morning, Jay."

"Good…morning?"

"You have been unconscious for several hours," he said.

"Oh." Jay glanced around herself.

The bed she found herself lying on was simple, soft and covered in towels. Her clothes had also apparently been changed and she couldn't fight off her natural instinct to blush. Of course. She'd been soaking wet when she'd run into the fingermen. It only made sense that her rescuer would try to keep pneumonia from setting it. But there were much more interesting things than towels to be seen in her new surroundings.

There were books. Lots and lots of books. She cleared her throat.

"Like to read much?"

"Often."

For the second time, Jay tried to sit up, but this time she didn't even make it more than a few inches away from her pillow. "Ow."

"Are you well?"

"I just got the crap beat out of me by six fingermen. You tell me."

"Very well. You have one cracked rib, two bruised ribs, enough cuts to cause warrantable concern and more than enough bruises to make you black and blue from head to toe. Ah, and I believe that the cold and wet might have brought on a cold. Does that answer your question?"

"…Yeah." Deciding once and for all that it would be a very bad idea to try and move, Jay glanced back towards the books. "I guess some of those were my dad's, right?"

"Yes."

"Read any?"

"A few."

"Ah."

There was an awkward silence, and Jay tried to shift into a new position, but succeeded only in aggravating her wounds.

"So." She looked back at him. "What now?"

"We wait."

"Wait? Wait for what? For the world to end?" said Jay.

"In a manner of speaking."

Jay's thoughts flew back to their last meeting, out in the alley behind her apartment building. What exactly had he said? She couldn't remember. She knew she had felt uncomfortable. Whatever he was up to, it involved more than just black list books.

"We?" she asked.

The masked man – V, he had said his name was – moved a little farther off and appeared to be examining the spines of the books.

"This is my home, Jay. I call it the Shadow Gallery," he said.

"Well that's very nice, I'm sure, but how does that answer my question?" she asked.

"As I am sure you have noticed, there is a warrant out for your arrest," V said, turning back to her. "If I had not intervened you would be sitting in an interrogation cell as we speak – if you had even survived the fingermen's beating, that is."

Jay felt cold. "What are you getting at?"

"What I am trying to explain to you, Jay, is that this is by far the safest place for you to be, the _only_ safe place for you to be. And now that you have seen it… I cannot take the risk of letting you be captured again."

"Cannot… cannot take… the risk? Am I… am I _your_ prisoner then?"

"No, no, Jay," said V. "Think of yourself as…" he cast about for words "… a guest."

"A guest that's under house arrest."

"I had to make a choice," V said. "I could either have left you there to die or brought you here. Which would you rather I had chosen?"

Even as Jay closed her eyes she felt a lone, rebellious tear slide out from the corner of her eye. Stupid tear ducts, what he was saying made perfect sense. "Here."

The man before her seemed to deflate and he half-extended his hand, like he couldn't figure out whether to offer her some kind of comforting touch or keep his distance. He seemed to settle for the latter and his hand fell back to his side.

"I am sorry."

"Don't be." Jay stared at the ceiling. "You did what you thought was right."

He left her alone then, with the books from her father's house, to try and get some sleep. It was a long time coming.

A/N: Feed the starving authors! Leave a review!

Replies:

D r a v v: Thank you very much! That is a very great compliment, indeed! I did very well on finals (4.0, anyone?), and am now trying to savor what remains of my break. Hope to see another review! They are very much appreciated!

GodisGod!andIamnot: Thanks for your review! Well, you got your action! Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you, and thank you again!


	5. ANNOUNCEMENT

As sorry as I am to say this, I will be discontinuing this fic, possibly deleting it. I do, however, owe you an explanation. While I still enjoy writing fan fic, and am still writing, my experiences in Northern Ireland have changed my perspective on this particular piece of work. It is not adequate to deal with the issues I studied and lived with there, and I simply cannot reconnect with it.

I plan on removing the fic from this site in about a week – once those who have it on their favorites and alerts have had a chance to see this post.

Thank you all for your support. I'll see you around.


End file.
